Insanity
by Jenny Max
Summary: For over one hundred years, Russia was considered "insane." He knew this, but why wasn't anyone else? Perhaps an old friend from the south could tell him why... Slight RoChu.


Russia was a strong country. He endured long, frigid winters, withstood massive invasions, and survived a century of revolutions, changes in power, and severe corruption within his government. He was proud to say that he could handle anything and everything thrown in his direction. His massive size (both physically and geographically) easily gave him an advantage in power, and the most of the twentieth century showed just what he was capable of doing (damn that America, by the way). He was the image of a "content" nation, but no matter how much he wore that smile of his, he couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with him.

Well, a lot of things when worded that way – he always had that aura of utter creepiness around him, there was his obsession with stalking some of the smaller nations who resided out west, and more often than not, his reasons for doing things just weren't considered "sane".

But, there was something about himself that Russia consciously knew was wrong. Underneath his history and nuclear weapons and brutish facade, he was a fragile soul just like every other nation. With enough pressure, he broke, just like any other individual would. He still wept and begged, despite his appearance of being so cruel and incompassionate. It was difficult for his head to wrap around that thought – that he was really, truly insane – but it was enough for him to know that he was not how he should be in the head.

Just one look at his fellow nations supported this suspicion of his:

There was England, whose glory days of being the largest empire in the world crumbled as soon as it reached its zenith. Again, damn that America; his revolution and preaching on a democratic government made him a bad influence on all of England's colonies, let alone the colonies of every other European empire.

There was France, who had one of the most God-awful armies in military history. Russia still laughed at how General Winter handed Napoleon's ass to the Frenchman on a silver platter.

There was Germany, who, soon after his unification in 1861, had issues with his government and landed himself blame and responsibility for both world wars, as well as the guilt of the murder of millions of lives. It perhaps didn't help that it was indirectly his fault Prussia no longer existed in today's maps.

There were the Baltics, all who, under his own hands, suffered greatly until they gained their independence two decades before. Was it a bad thing to want their company once in a while? Those three apparently thought so.

The list went on, but every one of them had something in common: they still had their marbles in a jar. None of them were crazy like he was, and all of them could look at each other without fear for the other...or themselves.

There was one subject that Russia has had his eye on for a long time. China was one of the few countries he classified as a "friend" (meaning that the Asian wasn't petrified of him whenever the two were in a room together). Sure, after the Sino-Soviet split China was very weary of him, but that was the past, and the years had since healed their relationship into one that made them close allies and, in personal terms, constant texting and instant messaging buddies.

His southern neighbor had to be the one person who Russia could relate to the most despite their huge differences. China was a small, delicate thing (much unlike Russia's tall and big-boned appearance) with porcelain skin, silky black-as-night hair, and dark eyes that did not hide the wisdom of a country that existed for thousands of years. The two were polar opposites, yet Russia still saw a resemblance between them, a strong one that made the gargantuan man want to only be closer with the tiny Oriental nation. They both shared a similar history of having their pride and power completely crashed, their lands assaulted and torn to pieces, of losing close loved ones and getting forced into doing their bosses' biddings against their wills.

Despite their very similar, very tragic histories, there was one matter that left Russia lying awake in the middle of the night. In 1905, he totally lost the ability to see between black and white, resulting in a completely blurred sense of justice, along with a tendency to sink into mood swings that he couldn't control. Now, it was the dawn of the second decade of the twenty first century, and China was still balanced, lucid, and _sane_.

How did he do it? China's history was definitely longer than his own. With dynasties ruling his government for a good majority of his lifetime, the older nation experienced scandals and murders and brutal fights for power behind those golden robes and ornate palaces. His siblings leaving him – Japan's the most humiliating and Hong Kong's the most heartbreaking – followed by the western nations literally tearing him apart and dividing him and his lands between all of them, accompanied with the fall of the Qing dynasty and the overall end to the Imperial Era... To think that the tiny man still smiled and acted like nothing ever happened every time Russia saw him. Russia wanted to know – _had_ to know how he could do it. Why wasn't China crazy like he was?

* * *

><p>The bustling city streets of Beijing rumbled in the stairwell as Russia ascended onto the fifth story of the apartment complex. His sudden desire to visit the southern nation and interrogate him was impromptu; China didn't even know he was in his capital. The Russian pulled his thick overcoat tighter around his body as he browsed the numbers in front of each apartment door. Winter here wasn't as bad as his home up in the subzero tundra, but it was still rather chilly and he wished that he caught a taxi instead of deciding to walk all the way from the airport.<p>

His heavy footfalls finally stopped in front of the door he was looking for and a small smile spread on his chapped lips. The door looked like any other ordinary door, with a little peephole below a decorative knocker and golden numbers adorned beside the door frame. He wondered if the neighbors even knew they lived next door to a nearly-celestial being who was a good four thousand years old.

A gloved fist hovered in front of the slab of mahogany before knocking. He waited a few moments and frowned when there wasn't an answer. Perhaps he should have given the Asian a call before dropping by so suddenly. Was he not home? Or maybe he didn't hear? He tried again, his knuckles rapping harder this time. Still nothing. Maybe if he tried one more time...

"_Aiyah!_" The muffled exclamation following the third round of knocking made Russia start. "_Korea! How many times do I have to tell you, _xiaolongbao_ did_ not _originate in–_" The door flew open, sending a wave of warmth crashing over Russia, along with the orgasmic smell of food on the stove. He did not realize how hungry he was until right then, so he wasn't affected at all by the look of great annoyance on China's face.

Those furrowed eyebrows lifted immediately and were instead raised in surprise as soon as the smaller nation noticed that it was not his breast-molesting brother waiting outside in the cold. "Oh, Russia! I'm sorry, aru, I didn't expect you to be here..." Russia was amused to see his face reddened in embarrassment, given that he was plainly dressed in an oversized tee (it looked like it was from some big rock concert, perhaps from England or America?), baggy grey sweatpants, and fleece panda bear socks. It was adoring to see the tiny nation donned in such large clothes. He looked almost like a child.

China hesitated slightly as he tried to think of why the taller nation would visit him out of the blue and stepped aside. "Please come inside, it's chilly, aru." And with a big smile on his face, Russia did just that.

Russia had ever personally been inside China's abode a scant number of times, so he still felt a bit awed whenever he visited. The apartment was large and spacious and was a pleasant mix of both contemporary and traditional themes. The walls were painted a rich deep red color, which made the room feel warmer and more soothing. A plush oriental rug clothed the hardwood floor in the center of the living room, and various decorations hung on the walls, ranging from fans with flowering trees to paintings of women dressed in traditional _hanfu_ riding large elegant birds.

He even spotted a few objects from some of China's siblings. During his last visit he inquired the Asian what most of the objects were, and he received a very enthusiastic hour-long lecture on the origins of the souvenirs. There was a fine blanket from Thailand draped over the couch with many Buddhist-inspired illustrations embroidered into the woven wool. A fragile looking end table from Mongolia was next to the couch with a watercolor paper lamp and expertly trimmed bonsai, both from Japan, perched on top. Among the hanged Chinese pictures were delicately painted flowers nestled within hand carved frames, the poems within those frames written in Korean. The last thing he could pick out (for the life of him he couldn't remember the origin of everything) were miniature models of some...vehicle from the Philippines sitting happily above the television ("Jeepneys," weren't they? Whatever, they were of American origin so Russia could care less).

The apartment was like a miniature museum, and Russia grew more wary of his footing the further in he entered.

China's voice drew Russia from his intense sightseeing. "What brings you to Beijing, aru?" It was an honest question with no suspicion hidden behind the words. Russia slipped out of his thick coat and laid it on an armchair, but left his scarf on.

"Is there anything wrong with just visiting?" he lied, following the small Asian in the kitchen. Like the living room, artifacts and oddities were displayed about, but were counterbalanced with modern cabinets and furniture. He made note of the huge china cabinet showcasing a collection of intricately-designed dinnerware as he sat himself at the dining table.

China, meanwhile, went straight to the stove and took a pan off of a burner. "You should've called ahead so I could've prepared dinner for more than just one, aru," he said as he started to rummage for raw ingredients in his refrigerator. "As well as dress more appropriately."

Russia's smile grew wider. "My apologies."

Silence fell between them as China worked like the busybody he was. A wok was put on a burner and left to heat up while a knife expertly chopped up a series of vegetables. Ingredient after ingredient was thrown into the wok, from peppers, bamboo shoots, and garlic to beef, various oils, and soy sauce. The clockwork process paused only when the sizzling and sputtering contents of the cookware were thrown and mixed around.

Russia was so entranced by his tasty-looking dinner in the making that he jumped when China started to speak. "So, is there a specific reason why you decided to stop by, or did you just want to visit, aru?" He crouched down and reached into a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of rice wine. He uncorked the bottle and tipped a bit of the wine into the wok.

The large nation didn't answer immediately and fidgeted slightly. Big bear Russia never hesitated, and China turned to look at him, an inquiring look on his face.

"I..." It finally dawned on him that it was perhaps a bad idea to cancel a couple days' worth of plans and travel several thousand miles just to ask why China wasn't a crazy crackhead. The blond suddenly found interest in a knothole on the table surface and traced his finger around the circular pattern. "Maybe. I also had something important to ask you."

Those dark eyes stared at him for a bit longer, as if trying to extract an answer just from looking over him, before returning their attention back to the stove. "Why didn't you just call, aru? It's a bit troublesome to go out of your way and come here."

"It's too big to just ask over the phone. I wanted to ask you in person." Violet eyes lifted from the table and rested on the lithe figure working on the stove.

"Mm." The ladle threw the stir fry around a few more times before the burner was turned off.

An uncomfortable silence fell into the room except for the light chinking of dinnerware as China pulled out a couple dishes and fished out some silverware from a drawer. Russia kept his eyes on him as he set the plates on the table and fetched their dinner from the stove. He wasn't sure if the smaller nation intended to avoid looking at him or not, but it started to really make him antsy. The wok was placed in the middle of the table, which was immediately joined with a large bowl of white rice and a pan of fried fish. After dinner was set up, China stepped back from the table. "Would you like anything to drink, aru? Some tea, or...?"

"You got vodka?"

A shake of his head. "No, I don't, sorry, aru. Will some _baijiu_ work instead?"

Russia nodded. Some sort of alcohol would work right about now.

A shot glass was placed in front of him, as well as in front of China's seat, and was filled with the clear liquid. Without waiting for China to serve himself, Russia took the small glass and downed it without batting an eye. He grimaced as the odd-tasting alcohol slipped down his throat, but he helped himself to another glass anyway.

The silence returned after China proceeded to feed himself, leaving Russia to prod his meal with a fork. The blond, who wasn't afraid of anything, was actually very nervous to bring up the reason why he visited. It was, after all, a bit of a touchy subject (well, he's never actually brought it up in any sort conversation except when he talked to himself), and he didn't want the other to think of any less of him for thinking this hard, or for the smaller nation to take any offense for being asked about his mental state. If there was one thing that everyone was to avoid, no matter who they were or what their fighting capabilities were, it was a pissed off Asian well educated in martial arts.

"So, what did you want to ask?" China finally asked, his attention focused on his fingers pushing some rice and fish onto a spoon. "It must be really important if you came here so quickly you didn't have a chance to call me, aru."

Russia speared a pepper with his fork and examined it. "Well, I..." The cogwheels in his head were reeling in overtime, trying to find a subtle way to ask his burning question. His tongue stuck out and licked his lips, his breath hitching a bit. His eyes flicked up and locked with China's, which portrayed a slight hint of impatience.

"Well, aru?"

"Why aren't you batshit insane?"

Unfortunately for China, he had just stuffed his rice-piled spoon into his mouth, and as soon as the blunt question was spoken, he immediately started to choke, a hand flying to his mouth to keep the steamed grains from flying out of his mouth. Russia watched with regret as the smaller nation bolted for the sink and spat his food out, violent coughs and the sound of the rushing faucet following right after. He took this opportunity to gulp down another shot of the Chinese liquor.

When his coughing died down, China turned his head around. "Run that by me again, aru?"

Russia's large fingers played around with his shot glass. He avoided China's hard stare and bit his lower lip. "Why...aren't you crazy?" he tried again. "I mean, you...I..." His voice died into an uncharacteristic squeak, and he hung his head.

His eyes squeezed shut when he heard footsteps approach him and his muscles tensed, expecting the Asian to be angry at him for asking such a rude question. He flinched when a pair of hands tenderly lifted his head and he was forced to look into China's brown eyes.

"What was that, aru?" He wasn't asking for Russia to repeat himself, he was asking him to elaborate, even though it seemed pointless since it looked like China understood what Russia was trying to ask.

Russia pulled himself back and started to stand. "Never mind, I need to go, maybe I'll–"

"No, you're not going anywhere, aru." China's pushed the taller back down onto the chair with more strength than he looked like he should possess.

Something inside of Russia twitched, and he could feel his mood start to shift. A familiar twinkle sparked in the corner of his eye and he pursed his lips. "I changed my mind. I don't need to ask you–"

"Oh, stop acting like such a child," China huffed. Only he would dare to cut off Russia and refuse to let him follow through with his wishes. Russia appreciated this, but irked him at the same time. "It isn't hard to get what you wanted to know, aru." And the glare he received was all Russia needed to know that the man pinning him to his chair indeed understood the conflict that was raging in his head. China's grip on his shoulders eased, and the small flame that had sparked inside him extinguished.

"But, I don't understand." The cat was now out of the bag, there was no use chasing after it. "You've been through so, so much, but you don't have a hard time with...you can just continue being...the others aren't afraid..." He paused to take a few breaths. "What's wrong with me?" Russia's eyes begged for an answer, and China, whose older brother instincts were kicking into gear, caressed his cheek.

"There is nothing wrong with you, aru."

Russia jumped and his eyes widened. "What? Of course there is! There are – there are so many things wrong with me! I always do things that makes everyone else not want to be around me. I...I have so much fun hurting people, even though I don't want to! I...I..." He wanted to say so much more, but his words got choked into a sob.

China's arms pulled the larger nation into a hug, and Russia buried his face into the other's shoulder. "There is nothing wrong with you at all, aru. You cry about being crazy, and you are, but you aren't." His patted Russia's back. "England is a heavy drinker and always gets into petty fights with others. France continuously chases after everyone despite being turned down over and over again. It's almost like he thrives on rejection. America is a bad binge eater, Italy is always begging for attention – and not to forget his own obsession with eating – and both Germany and Prussia have their odd obsession with drinking and their...pornography." He visibly shuddered and shook his head. "For the love of Qin Shi Huang, Japan believes that gouging his guts out with a sword makes up for damaged pride."

With a deep breath, Russia pulled back, his face showing that he did not understand what China was trying to explain.

"Don't think of yourself as being crazy, because everyone else is, aru."

"What about you?" China's eyebrows furrowed. "You're...you're fine. You – There's nothing wrong with you."

A small chuckle came from the smaller man. "You think I haven't asked myself the very same question you're wondering, aru?" He dragged a chair over and sat down. "You built your walls so high that you cannot see around you, aru." A knowing smile was on his lips and he stopped talking, leaving Russia to figure out on his own what China was talking about.

And it dawned on him. Back when his Soviet empire was on the rise, Russia had been hunting for nations to follow his new government philosophy, and China's recent downfall made him a prime target. Back then, his vision was fogged with the ambition to create the the perfect force to be reckoned with, so much so that he he used almost any means to expand his empire. China wasn't hard at all; the moment the northern country promised that communism will bring his country back together, he jumped the deal without a second thought.

Back then he didn't care, but now that Russia thought about it, he remembered the crazed look in China's eyes, that begging stare that demanded for some way – _any_ way – to fix his shattering country before everything was lost. A wise old nation who always calculated his decisions was reaching into the darkness for salvation, his right mind driven mad by the destruction of what he knew and the failure of trying to fix it all himself.

"But." Russia rested his eyes on China's. "You're fine now."

China let out another chuckle and stood. "I am but an old man. Who says I'm in my right mind?"

"You sound like that Alice in Wonderland person." Russia felt his tension relax and he was no longer nervous now that he knew that China didn't think of him as a fool.

"Well, Lewis Carroll does make a point, aru." The Asian leaned forward and planted a small kiss on the Russian's forehead. "We're all mad here. It comes with the job of being the embodiment of a whole country." He then stood up straight and patted the other's cheek. "Why don't we go back to our meal, aru? It won't taste any good cold."

Russia nodded and poured some more of the Chinese alcohol into his shot glass. It felt like a huge weight was lifted from his chest and he could rest easy now. The odd answer he received was far from what he was expecting – in fact, he didn't even know what he was looking for. Perhaps something a lot more negative, somewhere between "Because you're just plain messed up" and "Get the fuck out of my house," but not "Yes, you are mentally insane, but so is everyone else, so you're perfectly fine." He should have expected to receive such an unorthodox answer, because, after all, this was China he was speaking with. This man had thousands of years of life's experiences under his belt. He was almost a walking advice column.

"Hey, China?"

China sat down on his seat. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

A sincere smile spread on China's face. "Anything for a friend, aru."

* * *

><p>China was very pleased with himself. The moment Russia walked through his door, he knew that the taller nation had something pulling at his tail. China was patient with him, his years playing the role of the understanding Big Brother backing him up, but the direction their conversation went was a bit wayward. But still, the moment those five words flew from his guest's mouth (funny how those same five words nearly made him suffocate on rice and fish), his goal for the evening was to comfort the larger nation, and there was no better way to than to tell the truth.<p>

All the same, China was relieved to see Russia's worries ease, and he could already see him reverting back to the same large nation every knew and loved (sort of).

Now that the atmosphere calmed once more, China was oh so very happy to get back to dinner. He skipped lunch due to an expected-unexpected visit from Korea, followed by the discovery of a manila folder full of paperwork that was expected to be done by the coming weekend (he really should organize that desk of his and perhaps stop playing house with his little Hello Kitty figurines...).

Just as he was about to serve himself a mouthful of stir fry, the door banged several times, and the last person he wanted to see called out loud enough for everyone on the floor to hear.

"_Hey! Hey, Aniki! You there? I totally know you are! C'mon, I have something _reeeaaally_ important to tell you, da ze~_"

China's serenity and sense of fulfillment, as well as the peaceful silence within the room, was shattered instantly. His spoon clattered onto his plate and he slammed his hands onto the tabletop, his round pale face twisted in pure aggravation. "I am going to wipe that country off the face of the Earth, aru!" His carefully constructed patience broke, and he jumped onto his feet, his glare threatening to burst the front door into flames.

"Ah, China?" China turned to face the Russian. A look of familiar calm was on the larger nation's face, yet a dangerous glow was in his eyes. "If you do not mind me asking, may I join you?"

China blinked a few times before smiling evilly. "I'll pay you a hundred Yuan if you do."

* * *

><p><strong>Footnotes of Footiness, brace for impact.<strong>

**This was an old Kink Meme fill I did like ages ago (back when it was in the single digits). Since then it went through editing so it doesn't sound as retarded anymore. Any little foreign references I'm sure you can look up easily yourself.**

**China's transition between governments was pretty rocky, which I suppose was expected. In the 19th century, Western powers swaggered into China and tore the country apart, kind of like with Africa except in Asia. There were rebellions galore, and finally Imperialism went boom after the end of the Qing dynasty in 1911 (this is after almost _2000 years_ of Imperial rule, dudes). The short lived Republic afterwards turned imperialistic when the President gave power to the Prime Minister, who then pulled off a Napoleon and proclaimed himself Emperor only to be booed off the throne and died in 1916, effectively ending the "Republic". W****arlords took over for a while until Communists were like "FUCK YOU" and kicked them out, then the Communists and Nationalists warred with each other over who got control of the government, then there was the shit with Sino-Japanese War turned WWII, then more government warring, then 1949 the Commies won and we have the People's Republic of China. :D THE END.**

**I hoped you liked my Wikipedia history lesson. Now if you excuse me, I've got my Modern European History final to study for. =n=**


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